by Sylvia Day
This was one nightmare he couldn’t wake me from.
Raúl waited in my home office, talking briskly on his phone. I joined him, closing the door behind me.
He ended the call and stood. “The police are on scene. The gunman’s in custody.”
“Monica?”
“They’re waiting for the medical examiner.”
I couldn’t imagine it. I went to my desk, sat heavily in the chair. My gaze went to the photos of Eva on the wall.
“The detectives have been told that you and Mrs. Cross will be here at home when it’s time to get your statements.”
I nodded, and prayed for them to wait until morning to make that house call.
“I took the phone off the hook in the kitchen when we arrived,” he said quietly.
“I noticed. Thank you.”
There was a knock at the door. Tensing, I expected Eva to walk in. I exhaled in relief when it was Angus instead.
“I’m going to head back,” Raúl said. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“I need Eva’s purse from the car. And Cary. Get him here.”
He nodded and left.
Angus settled into the seat Raúl had just vacated. “I’m sorry, lad.”
“So am I.”
“I should’ve been there.”
“And have someone else I love in the line of fire?” I pushed to my feet, too restless to sit. “It’s a blessing you were at the Lucases’.”
He stared at me a moment, and then his gaze dropped to his hands.
It took me a second to realize what I’d said. Another to know that I hadn’t told him I loved him before now. I hoped he’d known anyway.
Taking a deep breath, his chin lifted and he looked at me again. “How’s Eva?”
“I have to check on her. She’s taking a bath.”
“Poor lass.”
“She doesn’t know.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I haven’t told her.”
“Gideon.” His eyes were wide with the same dismay I felt. “You cannae—”
“What good would it do?” I snapped. “We don’t have answers. Her mother’s gone. I can’t have her going back to the scene and seeing … that. Why torture her or put her at risk? Christ, it could’ve been her! It could still be her if we don’t keep her safe.”
He watched me pace, with eyes that had seen—and still saw—too much.
“I’m going to make some calls.” I pulled out my phone. “I need to get a handle on the situation before I tell her. Try to cushion the blow as much as I can. She’s been through so much—” My voice broke. My eyes burned.
“What can I do to help?” he asked softly.
I pulled myself together. “I need a jet available for Eva’s father. I’m going to call him now.”
“I’ll see to it.” He stood.
“Give me a few minutes to break the news to him, then text him the info when you have it.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thank you.”
“Gideon … You should know my search of the Lucas residence was successful.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a flash drive no bigger than a dime. “She kept this in a bedroom safe, buried beneath her jewelry in a box. She scanned all his notes.”
I looked at him blankly. Anne and Hugh were the least of my concerns at the moment.
“It’s all lies,” he continued. “He mentioned nothing of what really went on. What you may find of interest, when the time comes, is what he had to say about Christopher.”
Setting the drive on my desktop, Angus left the room.
I stared at it. Then I went to my desk, opened a drawer, and swept the drive into it with a brush of my hand.
Turning my phone back on, I saw that there were texts and voice mails from Cary, Magdalene, Clancy, Ireland, Chris …
Overwhelmed, I went to the home screen.
I pulled up Dr. Petersen’s office in my contacts and dialed. Going through the automated menu, I selected the after-hours emergency switchboard and told the answering operator that it was very much an emergency—a death was involved and the doctor needed to call me back as soon as he could.
The entire interaction was cold and clinical, especially for something so desperately personal. The grim process seemed like a terrible insult to the vibrantly beautiful wife and mother who was no longer with us. And yet I found myself wishing the next call I had to make could be accomplished with so little emotion.
As the line rang on the other end, I sank into my chair. The last time I’d talked to Victor had been the call I had placed from Rio de Janeiro, when I explained that the photo of me with two women was taken before I ever met his daughter. He had received that information with chilly reserve, letting me know without saying it that I wasn’t good enough for Eva. I couldn’t disagree. Now, I had to tell him that the other woman he cared for had been taken from him again—this time, forever.
Eva believed her father was still in love with her mother. If so, the news would level him. I could still taste the bile at the back of my throat and feel the icy panic that had blanked my mind in those first few moments after the shooting. There would be nothing for me without Eva.
“Reyes,” Victor answered, sounding cool and alert. There was noise in the background, traffic maybe. Distant music. I glanced at my watch, realized he might be on duty.
“It’s Cross. I need to tell you something. Are you alone?”
“I can be. What’s wrong?” he demanded, picking up on the gravity of my tone. “Has something happened to Eva?”
“No, it’s not Eva.” Just get it out. Blunt and quick. That’s how I’d want to be told that my life was over. “I’m sorry. Monica was killed tonight.”
There was a terrible pause. “What did you just say?”
My head fell back against the chair. He’d heard me the first time, I could tell by his voice. But he couldn’t believe it. “I’m very sorry, Victor. We don’t know much more than that at this time.”
From his side of the call, I heard a car door open, then slam shut. There was a brief spate of transmissions from a police scanner, then eerie quiet followed and stretched out for long minutes. Still, I knew he was there.
“It happened barely an hour ago,” I explained quietly, trying to bridge that silence. “We were all leaving an event. A gunman in the crowd opened fire.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But the shooter was apprehended. We should have more details soon.”
His voice strengthened. “Where’s my daughter?”
“She’s home with me. She won’t leave here until I’m certain it’s safe for her to do so. I’m making flight arrangements for you now. Eva will need you, Victor.”
“Let me talk to her.”
“She’s resting. You’ll get a text with the information for the flight as soon as it’s confirmed. It’ll be one of my jets. You can speak with her in the morning when you get here.”
Victor exhaled roughly. “All right. I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll see you shortly.”
Hanging up, I thought of the other man who was a father figure for Eva. I couldn’t think about what Stanton was going through; it shattered my mind. But I felt for him and was deeply sorry that anything I could offer would be inadequate.
Still, I reached out, typing a quick text. If I can be of service in any way, please let me know.
I left my office and went to the master bathroom. I paused on the threshold, everything inside me raw and aching at the sight of Eva stretched out in the steaming water with her eyes closed. Her hair was clipped up in a sexy, wild mess. The diamonds glittered on the counter. Lucky pawed at my shins.
“Hi,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “You take care of everything?”
“Not yet. Right now, I need to take care of you.” I went to her, saw the toddy was half gone. “You should finish your drink.”
Her eyes opened slowly, dreamy and soft. “It’s strong. I’ve got a buzz.”
“Good. Now drink the rest.”
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She complied. Not out of obedience but in the way a woman with a hidden agenda pretended to follow an order: because it suited her.
“Are you coming in?” she asked, licking her lips.
I shook my head. She pouted.
“I’m done then.” She rose from the tub, rivulets of water sliding over her flushed curves. She gave me a seductive smile, knowing what she was doing to me. “Sure you won’t change your mind?”
My throat worked on a hard swallow. “I can’t.”
With weighted steps, I grabbed a towel and handed it to her. I turned away, tormented by the sight of her, and collected first-aid items, setting the tubes and packets on the counter.
She came to me, leaning into my side. “Are you okay? Still thinking about your mom?”
“What? No.” I groaned, my head bowed. “When you passed out … Fuck. I’ve never been so scared.”
“Gideon.” She slid into me, hugging me. “I’m okay.”
Sighing, I gave her a quick squeeze and let her go. It pained me too much to hold her, knowing what had been left unspoken. “Let me take a look and make sure.”
Lucky sat with his head to the side, watching me curiously as I inspected Eva’s arm. I cleaned it with an antibiotic wipe before smoothing ointment over the angry red scrape. I taped gauze over it to keep it protected. The livid bruise on her hip got a generous application of arnica, my fingers lightly swirling over the darkening skin until the gel was fully absorbed.
My touch and focus aroused her, despite my best efforts. Squeezing my eyes shut, I straightened. “Off to bed with you, Mrs. Cross.”
“Umm … yes, let’s go to bed.” Her hands went to my shoulders, her fingers running down the untied ends of my bow tie. “I like your collar open like this. Very sexy.”
“Angel … You’re shredding me.” I caught her hands. “I’ve still got some things to handle.”
“Okay. I’ll behave. For now.”
With her hand in mine, I led her into the bedroom. She protested when I pulled out a Cross Industries T-shirt and slipped it over her head.
“What about the diamonds?” she asked.
She might never wear them again after this night. Where the fuck was Dr. Petersen? I needed his help to say the right things in the right way when the time came.
My fingers brushed her cheek, the only touch I would allow myself. “This will be more comfortable for now.”
I tucked her into bed, smoothing her hair back from her cheeks. She was going to sleep believing her world still had her mother in it and that her husband would never lie to her.
“I love you.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead, wanting those words to echo in her dreams.
It was all too possible that she wouldn’t believe them once she was awake.
Leaving Eva to rest, I shut the bedroom door and headed to the kitchen for a drink, something strong and smooth that might ease the cold knot in my gut.
I found Cary in the living room, sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. Angus sat at the far end of the dining table, talking quietly on his phone.
“Would you like a drink?” I asked Cary, as I passed him.
His head came up and I saw the tears. The devastation. “Where’s Eva?”
“She’s trying to sleep. It’s best that she does.” I entered the kitchen, grabbed two tumblers and a bottle of scotch, and poured two hefty rations. I slid one over when he joined me at the island.
I tossed mine back, gulping down the contents. Closing my eyes, I felt the burn. “You’ll stay in the guest room.” My voice was roughened by the liquor’s bite. “She’s going to need you in the morning.”
“We’re going to need each other.”
I poured another glass for myself. “Victor’s coming.”
“Fuck.” Cary swiped at his damp eyes. “Stanton, man … He aged right in front of me. Like thirty years just ran through him while I was standing there.” He lifted his tumbler to his lips with a violently shaking hand.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out, answering it even though I didn’t recognize the number. “Cross.”
“Gideon. It’s Dr. Petersen. I got your message.”
“Just a minute.” I pressed the phone to my chest and looked at Cary. “I have to take this.”
He waved me off, his gaze locked into the amber liquid in his glass.
I went to the bedroom and cracked open the door, relieved to find Eva fast asleep with the dog curled up next to her. Backing out, I shut myself in my office. “I’m sorry. I needed to step away for privacy.”
“That’s fine. What’s happened, Gideon?”
Sinking into my desk chair, I dropped my head into my hand. “It’s Eva’s mother. There was an incident tonight. She was killed.”
“Monica …” He took a deep breath. “Tell me what happened.”
I remembered then that Monica was—had been—a patient of Dr. Petersen, too. I relayed the same information I’d passed to Victor. “I need you to come to my home. I need your help. I don’t know how to tell Eva.”
“How to …? I’m sorry, Gideon. It’s late and I’m confused. I assumed she was with you when it happened.”
“She was right by my side, but I knocked her down to get her out of the way. Knocked the breath right out of her. She passed out and when she came to, I told her it was a false alarm.”
“Oh, Gideon.” He sighed heavily. “That wasn’t wise.”
“It was the right decision. There’s nothing she can do about what happened.”
“You can’t protect her from everything, and lying is never a solution.”
“I can protect her from being a target!” I surged to my feet, furious that his reaction and Angus’s reflected my worst fears about how Eva would respond to the choice I’d made. “Until I know what the threat is, I won’t have her out in the open, which is exactly where she’d want to be!”
“That’s her choice to make.”
“It would be the wrong one.”
“Regardless, it’s a decision she has a right to come to on her own.”
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it. “Her safety is nonnegotiable. She worries about everyone else. It’s my job to worry about her.”
“You could tell her your concerns,” Dr. Petersen said, his voice low and soothing. “Explain them to her.”
“She wouldn’t put her safety first. She’d want to be with Stanton.”
“Being with others who share her grief can—”
“He’s standing over her mother’s corpse on a city sidewalk right now!”
The words and the image they evoked were vile. My stomach churned, revolting against the liquor I’d poured into it. But I needed someone to grasp the full extent of the horror and understand why I’d made my decision. To give me some hope that Eva would understand.
“Don’t tell me what would be best for her right now,” I said coldly. “I won’t let her go there. She would be haunted for the rest of her life if she saw … that.”
He was quiet. Then, “The longer you wait, the more difficult this will be for both of you.”
“I’m going to tell her as soon as she wakes up. You’re going to come over here and help me do that.”
“Gideon—”
“I’ve talked to her father in California. He’ll be on his way soon. And Cary’s here.” I paced. “They’ve got some time to deal with it, so when Eva sees them, they’ll be able to give her the support she needs. You’ll be able to help her, too.”
“You’re not seeing that Eva’s biggest source of strength and comfort is you, Gideon. And by failing to disclose something of this magnitude and being dishonest about it initially, you’ve put her most depended-upon foundation on shaky ground.”
“You think I don’t know that?!” I stopped in my tracks, directly in front of the photo collage of my wife. “I’m … Jesus. I’m terrified she won’t forgive me.”
Dr. Petersen’s silence allowed those words to hang in the ai
r, mocking my helplessness.
I looked away from the images of my wife. “But I would do it again. This situation, these stakes …”
“All right. You’ll need to talk to her about all of this as soon as she wakes up. Be frank about what you’re feeling, and focus on that rather than logic or your rationale. She may not agree with you or see your point, but understanding the emotional impetus behind your actions will help.”
“Do you?” I challenged.
“I do, yes. Which isn’t to say I wouldn’t have recommended a different course of action, but I understand. I’m going to give you another number where you can reach me directly.”
Grabbing a pen off my desk, I wrote it down.
“Talk to Eva. Afterward, if you still want me there, I’ll come by. I can’t promise to respond immediately,” he went on, “but I’ll come as soon as I can.”
“Thank you.” I ended the call and took a seat at my desk. There was nothing more for me to do but wait. Wait for Eva to wake up. Wait for the police. Wait for the visitors who would come and call, friends and family who would be as ineffectual as I was.
I woke my computer and sent an e-mail to Scott, telling him to clear my calendar for the rest of the week and to get in touch with the wedding planner. Informing her and others was most likely moot, considering the paparazzi were already there at the time of the shooting. There was no way to have even a single day of private grieving.
The thought of what had to have been posted online already filled me with helpless fury. Graphic crime-scene photos. Conspiracy theories and wild speculation. The world would be looking in our windows for months to come.
I pushed the thoughts aside.
I forced myself to think of the things that would alleviate Eva’s stress. I already had plans to talk to Victor, and we would discuss his family then, since they were scheduled to arrive on Friday.
My phone was in my hand before I realized it. I checked my missed calls and scrolled through my texts. There was nothing from my mother, although I had to think Chris or Ireland would have said something to her by this point. Her silence didn’t surprise me as much as the text from Christopher.
Please give my condolences to Eva.
I stared at the text for a long while, tapping the screen when it dimmed to keep it lit up and in front of me. It was the word please that struck me. Such an everyday courtesy, but not one Christopher used with me.